


Let Sleeping Dogs Lay

by Patchouli (lifelesslyndsey)



Series: How To Teach An Old Dog New Tricks [6]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy has issues, F/M, Jealous Tony Stark, bad friend tony stark, bruce needs love tooo, lill bit of bruce/some other guy, porn and angst, tony loves darcy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 20:32:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12373494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifelesslyndsey/pseuds/Patchouli
Summary: Tony isn't prone to jealousy.There is so very little in the world that others have, that he can't aquire save for maybe daddy's-approval, or better morals.This? This is different.*Formally titled Green Eyed Monster but it didn't fit the dog theme haha.





	1. Ain't the only pup on the playground

**Author's Note:**

> So I think this series will feature a lot of darcy/somebody before it's darcy/tony but there will always be an element of Tony/Darcy. He's a piner. 
> 
> this is mostly porn and yelling.

Tony was not prone to jealousy.  There was very little other people had, that Tony simply couldn’t buy. The intangible things were more difficult, of course. Friendship, respect, love; he liked to think he had those things though, with the team. 

 

So yeah. Tony wasn’t prone to jealousy. He didn’t really know want, or hunger. (He knew desperation at the bottom of a cave but that was different, always different.) The things he could never quite have (his father's affections, his father's attentions, his father's respect), he let go. He accepted, with a sharp and biting grain of salt. He let it go. 

 

But this want, this vicious curl of desire, he couldn’t let it go. 

 

That girl was made with barbs, hooked into his skin and ripping every time he pulled. 

 

Stumbling into the lab to find Bruce on the couch, Darcy in his lap....He saw red. 

 

They weren’t fucking, not quite, both fully dressed. Although, they were both taking the gold medal for effort, judging by the curl and thrust of their bodies, the hitched pant of their breath.  Bruce’s hands roamed, as Darcy grinded down against him. 

 

“Wait, wait,” he gasped, pinning her down at the hips. “Wait, we can’t.” 

 

_ Oh but can’t we _ , Tony thought viciously, as he considered sicing DumE on the pair. 

 

Darcy laughed. “Feels like we can,” she said, breathlessly. “Tony bailed on us Bruce; it’s just you and I here.” 

 

And that was true. Tony had bailed on them in favor of more fun endeavors, like testing Captain America’s shield over at SHIELD headquarters. It hadn’t seemed like that big of a deal, then. 

 

“I...oh Jesus fuck,” Bruce hissed, when Darcy did something Tony couldn’t quite see, with her hands between them. “Wait, wait! Stop! I can’t.” 

 

To her credit, Darcy did stop. “Okay, no means no, but why.” It wasn’t even a question, like Darcy couldn’t manage to muster up enough enthusiasm to question-mark. She arched a brow though; question enough. 

 

Bruce leaned back on the couch, giving him the illusion of space between he and Darcy. “I just can’t.” 

 

“You’re dick is currently bruising my inner thigh in a rather promising manner, I think I deserve to know why you’re calling quits now.” She crossed her arms over her chest, hefting up the bulk of her tits.  _ Dirty pool _ , Tony thought. Who could say no to those sweater puppies, really? “We’re both adults here. Why? Was it something I did?” 

 

“Not you...Jesus no, I want to. I really....really want to, and I haven’t in a long time and I just...wish I could...jesus I wish I was a worse person but...Bro code,” Bruce chokes out, grasping her hips when she leaned back further. “Could you please----” 

 

“Get off your dick?” Darcy bit out, angry. Embarrassed, Tony thinks. She's a calculated girl, she parsed out the odds and were sure they were in her favor. She isn't fond of rejection. “I’d rather get off on it, but whatever.” She rolled off him, flopping down on the other side of the couch. “What the fuck do you mean bro code?” 

 

Tony knew. Tony didn’t know how Bruce knew, but there it was. He wondered if Bruce would sell him out. “Not to sound entirely misogynistic and cro magnon, but someone else called...dibs.” 

 

Jesus Christ. Bruce better not tell her it was Tony.

 

“Is this about the Cap?” Darcy asked, brow furrowed. “Because he seemed pretty understanding that it was just a one off. He’s dating that one chick Beth, or whatever.” 

 

“You slept with Captain America?” Bruce reeled, voicing Tony’s own mind. 

 

“Yes, yes I did. And that answers my question.” She pauses. “Was it Natasha? No wait, you know what? We’re not doing this. If you don’t want to fuck me, don’t. Don’t make up fucking stories. No matter what you think of me, I’m not that hard up.” 

 

“I just thought...I mean, I saw you and Tony----” 

 

“That?” Darcy reels, leaning back. “Dude. Banner. Just...no. Tony and I are not bumping uglies. I mean, once we both fucked the same hooker, but in turns. And then she gave us crabs. We’re bros, not boning.” She blinks. “Also the crabs thing is taking care of. If you don’t want to fuck any more, I understand.” 

 

“So you and Tony...aren’t sleeping together?” Bruce asks, his voice hesitant but...hopeful. No, Tony thinks. Go back to the bro code. The bro code was good. 

 

“A resounding no all around. We’re...just friends.” 

 

“But you did sleep with Steve,” Bruce presses, and now he sounds amused, what the hell. “And...Natasha.” 

 

“Well, not at the same time,” Darcy drawls, before making a face. “Natasha and I just made out and maybe rounded first base. Steven and I dry humped in the back of the Quintjet. It’s not a sorid as your thinking. I’m not like, trying to bone the whole Avengers collection.” 

 

“That’s good,” Bruce murmurs, and now his goddamn hands are wandering, back up over her hips. "I mean, I wouldn't judge you if you were; you're a grown woman. But it's....good." 

 

“Good, or good good?” Darcy asks, adjusting herself in Bruce’s lap, thighs falling open a little wider, as she settles her weight back down on his lap. 

 

“I...would you want to get dinner maybe?” Bruce asks and god dammit, Darcy’s grinning now, eyes sparkling. Bruce had to be a nice guy, didn’t he? Bruce had to go and push the right buttons and Tony can’t even be mad because Darcy looks fucking  _ delighted _ just to be asked.

 

She swoops down and kisses him, smearing that lovely red gloss messily across Bruce’s face with the same purpose of a dog pissing on a tree- marking. “How about I raincheck, and we get breakfast?” 

 

Bruce barks out a laugh. “Well, only if you promise to respect me in the morning.” 

 

*

 

He watches them fuck. It’s not his finest moment. He’s not a good person. He is scum, he is garbage, he is watching them fuck in HD and surround sound. 

 

He’d bolted for his suite upstairs, and bunkered down in the his office, holloscreens pulled up with every camera in the lab. 

 

“Subcam level three, zoom 40 percent,” he tells Jarvis, bringing the feed closer on Darcy and Bruce. He’s really not a good person, he thinks, taking a swig straight from his bottle of scotch. “Cam 4, curve rebound sixty percent. Bring it higher, and bring it in.” 

 

Jarvis does, wordlessly. Tony’s grateful. He doesn’t need his AI’s reproachful, judgy bullshit right now.  The thing about AI, his anyways, is that it grows and learns from that which surrounds it. Jarvis spends a lot of time with Pepper. Ugh 

 

She’s still in his lap, skirt hitched up higher on her hips. He can see her cunt like this, Bruce’s thick tan fingers curled up inside her, pushed right in beside her panties. Darcy’s fucking herself down on them like a little pro, mouth buried in the bend of Bruce’s neck, little whimpers and moans muffled there. 

 

Bruce is grasping at her hip with his other hand, fingers biting into the rounded flesh there. “Do you ah...do you have anything?” 

 

“Purse,” Darcy bites down, circling her hips a little harder. “Hold on, I”m....ah, fuck. I’m close. I’m close, I’m close, I’m close----  _ Bruce _ ,” She hisses, and Bruce’s hand picks up speed, and she comes, hard and shuddering. “Fuck.” 

 

“You’re ah...you mentioned your purse?” Bruce asks, hand working her through the after shocks, hips hitching up, and Tony can totally see his dick. He’s not as long as Tony, but he’s thick in an honestly intimidating way.  Darcy will walk in bow-legged and sloe eyed tomorrow and Tony will know, in technicolor detail, why. 

 

Darcy does some sort of weird and impressive back bend in his lap, and grabs her purse off the other end of the couch without ever dismounting. “Aha,” she says, pulling a shiney foil square from it’s confines. she tears it open with her teeth, and takes Bruce by his dick. “Any arguments against me being on top?” 

 

“Arguments?” Bruce echoes, thighs flexing as she rolls the latex down his shaft. “Oh God, no arguments.” 

 

“How about biting,” Darcy asks, dropping down, taking Bruce in inch by quick inch. “Any protests?” 

 

“Bite away,” Bruce says, between his teeth. “I’m all for hair pulling too, you seem to like my---  _ oh God _ .” 

 

Darcy takes that moment to drop down fully, both hands tangling in Bruce’s hair, as she tips her hips forward. Her teeth are bared, eyes clenched and it just looks... so  _ good _ . Tony can’t even. This is...he shouldn’t be looking but he can’t not.  This isn't for him, but he wants it so bad, he's----

 

He’s a terrible person. 

 

*

 

It’s not the fumbling coupling Tony would have expected from Bruce, who has admitted to an eight year long dry-spell. He can’t begrudge the guy for blowing the streak on Darcy (literally, figuratively).  She’s the kind of girl men break rules for, the kind of girl that makes you question your already questionable morals. 

 

She’s the kind of girl you watch your best friend fuck, apparently. 

 

It’s hot. Bruce is all hands, rough, tan fingers dragging over every inch of Darcy’s body. He gets her shirt off, throws it halfway across the room. Darcy helps him with the bra, Bruce can’t stop fucking up into her long enough to get his hands on the clasp. But as soon as it’s gone, he’s got his face in her cleavage, both hands cupping her tits, pushing them up and in, and it’s so rough, red marks painting her pale flesh, they’ll be purple, they’ll be green, but Darcy...Darcy’s into it. 

 

“Harder!” She bites out, mouth curled into a smile as she yanks at Bruce’s hair. It’s not a friendly tug, it’s not playful. It’s just on the right side of mean, pulls Bruce’s neck taught. He growls, nips at her collar bone, and does as she asked, hands slipping to her ass, hauling her up only to drop her back down like she's nothing but a toy to fuck, like she isn't in control - but she is, Tony really thinks she is. 

 

It’s not...not quite human, that burst of strength. There’s an ease to it that isn’t human, the lack of strain in his shoulders, the lack of effort behind the force. 

 

Darcy laughs, arches her back as she holds onto him by nothing but his hair. “Your eyes are green,” she sings, and Tony’s heart jumps into his throat. He trust Bruce not to hurt her of course, but the fear is there---

 

“Don’t stop,” Bruce growls, but Darcy didn’t look like she intended too. “I’m in control. I’m in control.” 

 

Looking down at him, face curtained in her tangle of curls, she grins, red mouth smeared in lipstick. “Are you?” 

 

Bruce flips them. Knocks her on her back so hard, it forced a grunt from her lungs, but then he’s fucking her, back hunched, hips snapping and God....Tony’s not sure which ones turning him on more. Darcy’s hanging half off the couch, gravity doing wonders for her tits. They’re all bounce and jiggle, even when she holds them in her own damn hands, mouth open, eyes closed, moaning, panting----

 

Tony may be making his own noises.  _ He is a terrible person.  _

 

Bruce fuckes her right off the couch, onto the floor. He flips the coffee table over with zero shame, and then...then he’s up on his knees, half her body pulled into his lap, legs hitched high on his hips.  

 

Darcy though, she’s splayed out, hands clutched into the plush white carpet. Her toes are curled. She looks like she can’t help herself, like what Bruce is doing is just so good she can’t help but clutch and curl, skirt riding high on her narrow waist. 

 

Bruce grins, something dark and scary. He presses his hand down low on Darcy’s stomach, and she  _ squeals _ , there is no other word for it. It’s not a sexy little moan, or a helpless little cry, it’s a squeal.  

 

Her back arches so hard it looks like it should hurt, and her legs lock, hips stuttering up higher but Bruce Banner is relentless in his fucking, fucks her through her orgasm. Tony can  _ hear  _ it, the vicious wet squelching sound. He can see it, the wet patch spreading over the front of Bruce’s terrible pants, pants he hadn’t even managed to take off.  He didn’t just make her come, he made her  _ come _ . 

 

*

 

Tony thinks about interupting them in the after-glow but can’t.  He’s hard in his own jeans, confused and guilty in a way he does not appreciate. They lay there, on the floor of the lab lounge, half-dressed, panting and sweaty. 

 

“That was...” Darcy says, catching her breath mid sentence. “That was...oh God. I don’t think I ever... _ what the hell was that _ ?” 

 

Bruce has an arm thrown over his head. “G-Spot orgasm.” 

 

“Oh God,” Darcy moans, legs twitching. She’s eagle spread and Tony looks away, to ashamed to stare at what he has  _ no right _ to see.  He can see the way the pink between her legs matches the pink of her mouth beneath that damnable red. “I feel like I’m still coming.” 

 

Bruce makes a chuffing noise into the bend of his elbow, a helpless little laugh. “Give me ten minutes and you might be.” He pauses, lifts his arm just long enough to look down. “I’m still hard.” 

 

“I can’t feel my  _ legs _ .” Darcy’s mouth is spread into a grin. “Wow. God. I had no idea. You’re...you.” 

 

He can see Bruce’s smile then, a smug little thing half hidden by arm. “Yeah.” 

 

“I...just. I.” Darcy swallows and Tony realizes that this is the first time in his short history of knowing her, that she is well and truly speechless. “Fuck.” 

 

Bruce rolls to his belly and onto his knees in a graceful move that speaks positively of  yoga and pilates and whatever else Tony has ragged on the man for. “Come on, we’re lucky Tony didn’t already catch us. My place or yours?” 

 

“What requires less walking?” 

 

Bruce snatches her shirt and bra up, and fixes the button on his ruined pants. “Mine. I have a private elevator from the lab to my quarters above Tony.” 

 

Darcy props herself up on her elbows, hair spilling over her bare chest. “I thought Tony had the penthouse suit.” 

 

“Technically he does. But he built quarters on the roof for me, when I agreed to come here.  I like knowing I have a fail-safe escape, should it be necessary.” 

 

“He’s got the big Glass Case of Emotion up there, doesn’t he?” It’s obvious Banner doesn’t get her reference, so she reiterates. “The Hulk-Box. He has one on the roof?” 

 

“Yes.” Bruce’s smile wavers. “I haven’t needed it in a while, though. You shouldn’t be concerned -or well, you should always be concerned that I might--- I just mean---”

 

“Bruce.” Darcy’s voice is soothing, mouth curled into a half smile that makes Tony’s stomach curdle with what is in no way jealousy. “I trust you.” 

 

*

 

He doesn’t intend to tell Bruce what he witnessed. He was wrong to have watched, and really Tony doesn’t like to admit being wrong. 

 

He forgets of course, that Bruce is  _ smart _ . “Okay, what’s up.” He asks, frowning at Tony’s forced expression. “Seriously, Tony. Your eyebrows are trying to migrate north for the Winter. What’s wrong.” 

 

“With my eyebrows?” Tony replies, tinkering with a magnetic circuit splitter. “They’re eyebrows.” 

 

“Tony.” Bruce stares at him, eyes narrowed. “You know something. Something you shouldn’t.” 

 

“I know a lot of things I shouldn’t.” He tries to aim for smug, and it mostly pans out except he over-thinks the twist in the screwdriver, and sends a screw flying across the room. It rolls across the floor, down the recessed step, and underneath the couch in the lounge. 

 

Tony doesn’t mean to track its path, but it’s a reflex. Bruce does too, and swears. “Fuck. You know.” 

 

“I was running late. Got caught up at SHIELD.” Tony edges away, fiddles with circuit board laying about on the table. 

 

“How much did you see?” His voice is calm, but his jaw ticks, and Tony is suddenly nervous. Bruce is a private man, Tony knows this. “Tony.” 

 

“Not much. You were kissing. That’s it.” It’s a filthy lie, but Tony’s done worse. “Then I left.” It’s true. He did. He left for his office upstairs, he left for the Screen Room, for the cameras. 

 

Bruce...doesn’t buy it. Because he knows Tony. “Oh, so you don’t know that I fucked her right there on your floor?” 

 

“You did what? What? No! I---” 

 

“You watched,” Bruce says, honestly stunned. “Jesus Christ, Tony. Really?” 

 

“Of course I didn’t---” 

 

_ “STOP LYING TO ME.”  _

 

Tony swallows, sets the circuit board down and holds very still. “Okay,” he breaths, because Bruce knows Tony, and Bruce knows Tony is a fucking liar. Bruce doesn’t like it, but he’s never done this. Tony thinks this might be the first time he’s been legitimately scared of Bruce. “Okay. Did you guys end up getting breakfast?” 

 

Bruce stares at him for a long moment, the green fading from his eyes with a long, barked-out laugh. “We ordered in.” 

 

Tony nods. The room-service at Stark Tower was terrific, five-star really. The staff was formed with an eclectic mix of skillfully-trained chefs, and prison cooks. It made for a fantastic mix. “I’m really sorry.” 

 

“It’s our fault, I guess. We had sex on your floor,” Bruce says after a long moment, and looks surprised for it. “Jesus Christ. I slept with Darcy.” 

 

Tony nods again. “I want to high-five you but I’m thinking it’s too soon.” 

 

“Good call.” Bruce fidgets for a moment, brow drawn. “I really like her. I...It’s been a very long time since a woman has shown any interest in me, let alone someone I could see myself spending time with and...I don’t know. I didn’t expect this to happen. One minute we’re sitting there waiting for you, and the next minute she’s in my lap.” 

 

Tony can see it. Darcy’s precocious at the best of times, and downright saucy the rest. “Sounds about right. You guys...uh. Are you going anywhere with this?” 

 

“Maybe.” He shrugs, typically awkward and self-conscious. “It’s up to her. I’m just...going to roll with it, I guess.” 

 

Tony’s a bad person and a bad friend. He knows he should tell Bruce that leaving it up to her is a bad call. That if left up to her, the thing between them will go nowhere but between the sheets because Darcy believes that’s all she deserves.    
  
He wants to tell him that Darcy wants romance, but doesn’t know how to ask. That she’ll settle for fucking, because it’s all she thinks she’s worth. 

 

He knows he should tell Bruce that she wants flowers and fancy-dinners; the works, but she’ll laugh at every rose, at every candle-lit table because she doesn’t know how to want things the right way.  That she’ll use sex like a weapon to get out of trouble, to avoid feelings, to hurt herself, to hurt others. 

 

That she’ll run at the first sign of real affection, but that Bruce shouldn’t give up because Darcy wants someone to chase her. 

  
  


He knows he should tell Bruce that what Darcy wants is someone to love her. 

 

He doesn’t though. He slaps Bruce on the back and smirks. “Good idea. Keep it casual. Play it by ear.” 

 

Bruce grins, his little mona-lisa thing. “Casual. Yeah. Thanks Tony.” 

 

Tony’s a terrible person, and a terrible friend. 

  
  
  



	2. Jail Bait and Tackle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's kind of sad, is what it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a lill wrap up for the Bruce/Darcy side-step.

Tony stares. It’s hard not too. The kid is...well, he’s just that. A  _ kid _ . He’s eighteen if he’s a day and Tony thinks it’s probably only by a day if he is.  He’s got big brown eyes and fluffy brown hair and is absolutely geeking out over the autonom particle stimulator, and yeah, Tony stares. 

 

“Did you set Bruce up with a...a  _ mini  _ Bruce?” 

 

Darcy grins, the shark-grin. “Isn’t he great? He’s so awkward, I just want to pinch him right on the cheek.”

 

“Which cheek?” Because Darcy doesn’t strike him as a face-pincher. He knows her too well. 

 

“The right one. Have you seen his ass? So pert. So firm. I can’t even words, about his ass. His ass makes Captain America’s butt look like a potato.” She nods to herself, smug and shameless. “Banner’s gonna hit that so hard.” 

 

“This is your ex boyfriend you’re talking about,” Tony reminds her. Not to be mean. Okay, maybe to be a little mean, because why does Bruce get pert jail bait, when Tony doesn’t even get to enjoy his one night stands without Darcy inviting them out to lunch or switching their majors to liberal arts. 

 

Darcy doesn’t even bother to look at him, not stung in the slightest. She just waves him off flippantly. “Oh I know. I’d had my eye on Peter for Bruce even before I dated him. I mean, I figured dating me would open Bruce up a little to the idea of dating in general. I set him up with one of the IT girls a few weeks after we called it quits, to get the rebound out of the way. And look at them, they’re fucking adorable. Gold Star for Darcy Lewis, Jarvis make a note.” 

 

“So you never even wanted to date Bruce? You just what...went out with him to prime him for this kid?” He’s offended on Bruce’s behalf, and not a little disappointed in Darcy. “Did you have a timeline? Break up speech at the ready?” 

 

Darcy blinks at him, mouth falling open. She looks honestly startled, and it’s such an open, true expression, Tony feels like everything else he’s seen on her face has been a lie. “What? No of course not, I really liked Bruce!” She flushes a little, and Tony can see the embarrassment, the shame there. “I just...Look, Bruce was great. It’s just..... Guys like Bruce? They don’t pick their forever in girls like me. They don’t look at me and see white picket fences and dogs and car-payments. They see...tits and good times. And that’s great, I have a fantastic rack and I know my way around a good time. Bruce was good...but he needs a home in somebody, you know? I don’t regret it. I had fun with Bruce, but...but it wasn’t meant to be. I’m a vacation spot, not a permanent residence.” 

 

Tony tears his eyes away from Bruce and the lab-grunt to stare at her because that’s...that’s actually really sad. That she went into her relationship with Bruce expecting it to fail, expecting to eventually set him up with another person. That every date they had, every night they shared didn’t change her mind in the slightest. She never meant to stay with Bruce, never expected it to work. Because she didn’t think she was good enough for him. 

 

“For guys like Bruce,” Tony echos, overcome with the inexplicable urge to fucking hug her, and that...that is just wrong. Tony does not hug. “But not for every guy.” 

 

She laughs, bright and happy but it shouldn’t be because Tony is crushed on her behalf. “I really doubt any guy looks at me and thinks ‘wow she’d make a great mother to my child’.” She shoots him a wry smile. “Hell, I don’t even think that about myself.” 

 

“Maybe guys don’t see that in you because that’s not what  _ you  _ want,” Tony insists, nudging her with his elbow. “Maybe you’ll never settle down with a guy like that because that’s not the kind of guy you want to settle down with. You don’t strike me as the kind of girl that wants a big white wedding and a two-story colonial with a two car garage.” 

 

She shrugs, the strap of her tank-top slipping over her freckled shoulder. “I’m not. 

**Author's Note:**

> Totally have a second part to this and I started writing the whole Darcy and Tony Share A Hooker (in turns) And Crabs.


End file.
